


Cardigan

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe Transformation, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Work In Progress, more tags will probably be added, yuuri catsuki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The day before the Sochi Grand Prix Finals, Victor takes a walk and finds an injured cat in the rain.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

Victor Nikiforov didn’t think the Grand Prix Finals that year would be any different from the previous years. They would arrive. Yakov would check them in while he gave the press acceptable sound bites. He would be sent to his room to prepare for the next day. Once unpacked, Victor would order room service for dinner then spend the rest of the night doing some nearby sightseeing while wishing he could bring Makkachin to ISU events.

As soon as they arrived at the hotel in Sochi, Victor knew something was up.

Yes, he did feel terrible for the missing figure skater. He felt terrible that poor Yuuri Katsuki of Japan had somehow gotten lost between the airport and the hotel during his first Grand Prix. He felt terrible for Coach Cialdini, who looked like a man that needed either a very strong drink or a good night’s sleep (preferably both, but the way the officers were questioning him, the latter didn’t seem likely) He felt terrible that he enjoyed the change of pace it caused for the first couple of hours. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t broadcasting his every word live, even if all he could say was “I have not met Mr. Katsuki,” and “I hope he is found soon.”

And then Yakov told his skaters that they were forbidden from leaving the hotel alone. That they would all travel in a group to and from the arena. They would either eat their meals together in the hotel restaurant or alone in their rooms. If they wanted to go to other skater’s rooms, they needed to inform him. Otherwise, they would stay in their rooms. No one knew what happened to Yuuri Katsuki. The police hadn’t ruled out an abduction, and Yakov didn’t want to risk any of his skaters being taken. Victor understood his coach was in a difficult position of being responsible for the safety of all four figure skaters he brought with him, but still didn’t like it. He did feel a little resentment towards Katsuki.

Of course Victor didn’t stay in the hotel like he was told. He did get his coach’s permission to visit Christophe (who had spent longer talking to police as he had trained with Katsuki and had spoken to him before his flight from Detroit). He did stop by his friend’s room and had a glass of wine with the man, but then took the elevator to the lobby and walked out into the night.

It had started raining. Not wanting to be too suspicious, Victor had left his coat in his hotel room, leaving him with the rust and navy plaid knit cardigan he’d thrown over his travel clothes. He pulled it closed, trying to keep the near-freezing rain as far from his body as possible. He almost turned around. His hotel room was warm and dry. He could still order room service. Unfortunately, there was still a defiant part that lingered in him. He was an adult. He didn’t need his coach telling him what to do. So, he walked on.

The rain had driven most people indoors, with only cars speeding by and accidently splashing dirty water on Victor in their tires hit muddy puddles. It was nice. Victor could let himself relax, let the press smile that felt almost permanent on his face slip. He could curse under his breath when water splashed on his shoes without worrying that someone would somehow catch that soundbite and destroy the carefully crafted image of Victor Nikiforov.

Not five minutes away from the hotel his coach discovered that he’d left. Victor looked down at his phone in one hand as his chat with Yakov filled with angry messages. Calling him irresponsible, childish. Saying that he was setting a bad example for the younger skaters. Victor sighed, stuffing the phone back into one of the cardigan’s pockets. He could deal with his coach later. Anything he could say now would only make his coach madder. No, when Yakov was practically shouting-via-text, it was better to just give him some space to cool off (if there was any wisdom he would share with his younger rink mates, that was it).

That was when he saw it. A completely soaked black cat with no tail(?!), walking down the sidewalk on the bridge. The cat moved slowly, limping to keep as much weight off its front right paw as much as possible.

 _‘Yakov is not going to like this,’_ Victor thought as he slipped off his cardigan. The moment he noticed the limping, shivering, soaked-to-the-bone cat, he knew he couldn’t leave the cat. He would simply have to sneak the soaked cat back into his hotel room and deal with the repercussions as they come. It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, right? Besides, what was the worst they could do? If it got out that the ISU did anything more than possibly fine him for rescuing a helpless cat, the blow back would be harsh.

Victor tried to crouch slowly, remembering how easily scared Makkachin was when he first brought her home. The cat was already walking towards him. Maybe, if he was still and quiet enough, the cat would walk right into the cardigan.

_buzz_

The cat stopped. It looked up at Victor for a moment, as if confused. Then, the cat turned and ran into the road.

In front of a truck.

(=^ . ^=)

He was cold. He was wet. He was hungry. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew he should be headed in this direction. That there was somewhere warm at the end of this long wet sidewalk, there was warm food and soft bed waiting for him. He just had to get there.

He saw other cats, huddled in groups in soggy old boxes, dented trash cans, and under old rusted cars. He almost tried to join them, but then they hissed at him, bared their jagged teeth and sharper claws and he knew he was not welcomed. So, he kept walking.

Maybe if he did stop and think about it, he’d be able to access the part of his mind that remembered. That he had been a little more jittery than usual after a long, rough flight. That it caused his anxiety to flare up enough for him to run to the bathroom to vomit into the toilet. That he promised his coach that he would catch the next shuttle to the hotel, as knew the Italian man had a conference call with the other Detroit coaches and didn’t have time to wait for him to get a hold of himself. That he tripped and fell on his hand.

Actually, he was almost there. After walking for so long without seeing any humans, his mind had started to wander. His paw hurt a lot. Sure, he could still skate with an injured paw, though he meant lose a few points in presentation. No, his biggest concern was finals week. That was his writing hand. How was he going to take his exams if his wrist was messed up?

_buzz_

He looked up and saw a human. Where did that human come from? He didn’t even hear him until that quiet sound. The human’s light hair was flat on his head, soaked from the rain. For a moment, he was drawn to the human. There was something that seemed so familiar about that hair. Then he saw the large thing he was holding in front of him. _‘TRAP!’_ his mind screamed at him. _‘RUN!’_

So, he turned to the side to run. He screamed when he put his weight on his injured paw but didn’t stop. He had to get away from the human and his trap. He didn’t see the truck headed toward him until the headlights hit the road in front of him. Until he heard tires screeching on pavement.

He closed his eyes, sure he wasn’t going to make it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*o*) Thank you for all of the kudos!

Then they were laying on the other side.

Victor was just as shocked as the cat cradled against his chest that they made it. He was soaked in dirty water and felt a few scrapes and bruises forming from where his body not-so-gracefully hit the ground and rolled after scooping up the cat, but the look on that little face was worth it. Especially those big brown eyes, so tired yet so amazed. Like he was the most wonderous thing in the world. For that moment, nothing beyond those sparkling brown eyes mattered to him. Then the cat whimpered in his arms and he remembered the clearly injured paw. “Oh! I’m sorry, beautiful!” he cooed as he as gently as possible repositioned the cat so the paw was not trapped in the cardigan. He pulled himself up, careful not to shuffle too much. He still accidentally bumped the paw, which caused a startled cry from the practically swaddled animal. “I’m so sorry, baby!”

(=^ . ^=)

He stared up at the human that held him so gently. That spoke to him in a language he didn’t understand. Those words sounded as though they could have sounded harsher, but the man cradling him whispered them so softly, so gently, he finally let himself relax in his arms. Though this human looked only vaguely familiar, he felt safe being held against his warm chest, listening to that steady heartbeat.

(^o”)/~~~

Victor couldn’t help smiling as he watched the cat melt. Poor baby! It must have been so scared! First, out here alone in the cold rain. Then that truck! He was sure he didn’t help matters at all when he first tried to grab it either. Victor stopped by a food truck for pirozhki. The two employees absolutely fell in love with the little black cat with huge brown eyes. Both women reached out to the cat who was likely too cold and tired to do anything besides accept the pets and soft scratches between the ears. They said that their truck had been parked there for a few weeks, but neither remembered ever seeing such an adorable cat around there. Luckily, one of them knew where the closest veterinarian’s office was and gave Victor directions.

By the time they arrived at Doctor Antonov’s, the cat had finished the extra meat Victor handfed him from the cup the food truck employees had given him in exchange for his autograph on napkins and an Instagram shout out (they took a group selfie). The cat purred as it snuggled against his chest, a soft sound that the skater absolutely adored. He suddenly had a much clearer understanding of why Chris and Yuri liked cats so much. He was ready to do anything to hear that soft purring.

Doctor Antonov ran his usual tests on the cat (“Mr. Nikiforov, he’s an intact male,” he had said with a smile after Victor admitted that he didn’t know). Besides the minor sprain, he was a perfectly healthy two year old Japanese bobtail (“Yes, Mr. Nikiforov, some cats are born with a stubbed tail.” “No, it was not chopped off”). The cat just needed a few weeks with a brace on his leg and some medication. The vet also put some sample cat foods in the prescription bag for Krasivyy (the cat needed a name so Victor just went with that), which he put in a large bag with a box lid that could be used as a temporary litter box. Victor thanked the doctor profusely and promised to make a follow up exam with Makkachin’s vet (turns out they were cousins) as soon as he returned to Saint Petersburg.

Somehow, Victor managed to slip into the hotel, across the lobby, up the elevator, and down the hall into his hotel room without being stopped. Thank god. He passed by his rink mates and most of his competitors in the lobby, the overall topic in the small groups being that Yuuri Katsuki’s luggage and glasses were found at the airport, the skater himself was still missing, and their guesses as to what happened. He saw poor Coach Cialdini having a much-deserved drink at the hotel bar with the other coaches, who were telling him that it wasn’t his fault and that they would find his missing skater (all except Yakov, though he was at least kind enough to not say anything). He did pass by some children who saw Krasivyy and waved, but were pulled along by their parents before they could do much else.

The vet did dry the Krasivyy and swaddled him in a clean recovery blanket, but that had soaked up the water from the cardigan Victor had to carry on the same arm. The poor feline was shivering again. Ignoring the fact that he was soaked and shivering himself, Victor immediately grabbed a soft towel from the bathroom to carefully dry the animal. By the time he was mostly dried off, the effects of the medicine the vet gave was starting to kick in, making him even sleepier.

Victor couldn’t help smiling as he watched the cat doze off. He looked so peaceful. Watching the cat made him feel sleepy. As quick as he could, the skater blow-dried his hair in the bathroom, changed into his pajamas, and hung his cardigan in the shower (hanger on the showerhead) before he let himself settle in the bed next to his unexpected roommate. At the last minute, Victor texted his coach to let him know that he was back in his room and set an alarm for the cat’s next dose of medicine. Then, after taking a selfie with Krasivyy to post when he had the energy to think of a good caption, he rested his hand on the cat’s body, letting the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull him to sleep.

Every couple of hours, Victor’s alarm went off. He couldn’t help groaning as he pulled himself out of bed to retrieve the pill bottle. “Please, Krasivyy? It’s to help you,” he whispered to the cat to swallow the pill that he tried to gently shove to the back of his mouth. He couldn’t help getting a little frustrated when the cat fought back with his neatly trimmed claws and soft bites. But that was all forgiven when Krasivyy laid on the bed next to him, big brown eyes watching with admiration until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. At some point, he noticed that the cat was shivering and draped his mostly-dry cardigan on him before they both fell asleep.

Victor did manage to have one dream. In it, he was still in the hotel room, tucked into his bed. Only, instead of a cat’s fluffy body, his hand rested on the soft cheek of another man. The stranger gazed at him with the same big brown eyes as the cat, slightly dulled from the medication and sleepiness. When he brushed his thumb along the other man’s cheekbone, he felt the cheek beneath his palm warm. The stranger closed his eyes as he leaned into the touch with a gentle smile. _‘Beautiful,’_ Victor thought as he closed his own eyes. When he awoke again, it was to an empty bed.

(=^ . ^=)

Yuuri Katsuki was used to having chunks of missing memory, that didn’t mean it didn’t scare him. In fact, they terrified him. He didn’t like not knowing what happened during those blocks of missing time. Where did he go? Who did he talk to? Did he say the right things? Was anyone upset with him? Most of the time, the answers were the same: he didn’t leave his bedroom (not even to retrieve the food left by his closed door) and didn’t talk to anyone.

This time, Yuuri found himself in a hotel lobby without his glasses, wearing someone else’s clothes. He knew it wasn’t his clothes simply based on touch. The shirt was much softer than anything he owned, and he knew he didn’t own a cardigan.

Feeling slightly woozier than usual, he practically collapsed into one of the plush chairs. He felt as though he had taken some medication, but didn’t know what. Was he drugged? Was that why he had no memory of how he got from the airport to this hotel? As quick as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. He remembered that, after throwing up in the airport bathroom, the only thing he consumed was a bottle of water from the vending machine.

He didn’t realize someone was speaking to him until he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked up to see a woman standing over him. What was she saying? Was that Russian? Oh, that’s right. They weren’t in Detroit, but Sochi for the Grand Prix Finals.

“Do you speak English?” Yuuri asked as politely as possible. Though, as groggy as he felt, he wasn’t entirely sure that he was speaking English. Knowing his luck, he just asked in Japanese.

Thankfully, the woman nodded as she handed him a clear cup of water. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. He sipped the cold water, the chill clearing his head a little. His wrist hurt. The last thing he remembered was tripping on the curb outside the airport, then nothing. He must have fallen on his wrist. But how did he get here? Where was here? After another sip of water, Yuuri lifted the cup to his face. Surely, wherever this was would have their business name on their cups. He squinted, struggling to read the cup without his glasses.

Then he jumped up from the chair and almost dropped to the floor from sudden lightheadedness as he half-stumbled to the front desk. “My coach! My coach has a reservation for us here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krasivyy means Beautiful in Russian. I like how it sounds. 
> 
> (^o")/~~~ is supposed to be Victor as an emoticon. I thought it would make the different character point of views easier if they had their own emoticons to mark the beginning of their parts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up longer than I planned (hahaha like I plan anything. If I planned anything I would be updating my works on a regular schedule and not only when my brain figures out what words are)

“You really don’t remember where you have been for the last twenty-four hours?” Celestino asked his skater again. They had been in a Russian clinic for the better part of the last few hours, since he was woken up to a call from the front desk that Yuuri Katsuki was in the hotel lobby. Thank god Yakov Feltsman, of all people, happened to have been in the hall, returning from dealing with a sick skater, when he ran out of his room. It helped to have someone with him that spoke Russian, especially since the nurses at the clinic struggled to explain using Google Translate, which tried to translate too much.

Though Celestino would have liked to hear more than the “Sprained wrist. No concussion. He can skate,” Yakov gave him.

The Russian coach was still there, helping him translate the paperwork needed to get Yuuri’s pain medication cleared for the competition that day while also trying to wrangle his own team. One of his skaters had already gotten himself sick the night before after ordering a whole medovik (which he knew from Yuuri was a honey cake) for himself, another skater’s girlfriend broke up with him again, and Victor Nikiforov apparently decided that he didn’t need to answer his phone.

Celestino was almost grateful his skater’s problem was the injured wrist and the missing time.

“No sir,” Yuuri replied, now dressed in his Team Japan tracksuit with his clean glasses on. After a few sips of the hot cinnamon black tea in his left hand and a warmed blueberry muffin, his head cleared up enough to say what he remembered after his coach left him at the airport. It was concerningly very little, especially given that Yuuri had no signs of any head injury.

The whole situation was strange. First, that Yuuri had gone missing at all. Celestino knew how Yuuri was. He knew his skater likely had every route from every airport in the area to the hotel memorized weeks in advance. Yuuri probably had the entire day planned out, along with a back up and at least one back up to the back up. Celestino was almost sure Yuuri probably had a plan for every situation. He wouldn’t be too surprised if he had several plans for if he got abducted.

That was everyone’s first thought. Though Yuuri apparently had trouble accepting it, he was a world-famous figure skater. He was likely one of the most medaled men in Japanese figure skating at that moment. In recent years, every skater that came to train at the Detroit rink at least mentioned that it was Yuuri Katsuki (not Victor Nikiforov) that inspired them. “Jumps are cool, but I want to dance like Yuuri Katsuki!” seemed to be the general consensus among beginners. In fact, the only one of Celestino’s skaters that was not a Yuuri Katsuki fan seemed to be Yuuri Katsuki. Then the airport security found Yuuri’s belongings, and that seemed to reinforce the abduction idea. Whoever took Yuuri apparently had him leave everything on the pick-ups curb, including the clothes he was wearing and his glasses. Celestino waited with the other coaches and ISU officals for a possible ransom call. That was how these things worked, right? At least, he hoped that all the kidnappers wanted was money. Yuuri was nervous enough without any added trauma.

The call never came. A call to Yuuri’s parents confirmed that they hadn’t received a call either. Shortly after they ended their call, with exchanged promises to keep each other informed, and Yuuri’s older sister interrupted with the usual empty overprotective-sibling threats, Celestino’s company started trickling away.

He thought he saw Victor Nikiforov slip through the hotel lobby, looking like he was sneaking something he shouldn’t have. If he was anything like Yuuri, this excitement probably made him nervous and he snuck out to grab some comfort food.

Celestino waited at the bar until it closed for the night. Then he spent the next few hours pacing in his room. God this was going to be a mess. He still hadn’t told Phichit, who had probably been distracted with his own practice, helping the juniors, and studying for his exams to notice that Yuuri hadn’t responded to his texts. Then there was the Japanese Skating Federation. Thankfully, the ISU had been handling that part, but they would eventually want to talk directly to him. He felt as though he’d just barely closed his eyes when the hotel room phone rang.

Though he was more than relieved to see his missing skater sitting in the lobby, Celestino had his concerns. Yuuri seemed a little out of it, like when he caught him trying to skate still buzzed from a New Years party. He was wearing a completely different outfit (at least he was dressed). His wrist looked swollen and bruised, though Yuuri (being Yuuri) tried to hide it with his cardigan sleeve.

“Mr. Cialdini,” the doctor called, gesturing for him to join him outside of the examination room. He waited until the coach was in the hall before continuing speaking. “Are you aware of what kind of anti-inflammatory Mr. Katsuki has taken?”

“What?” Strange. Yuuri seemed slightly paranoid about the ISU’s drug regulations, to the point that his coach had to practically force him to take cold medicine before he dropped on the ice. He had seen him win medals with sprains that left him on crutches on the podium, his smile strained but still refusing any pain medication. He wouldn’t even take an aspirin for headaches. Whoever talked Yuuri Katsuki into taking any sort of medication without having to threaten to call his mother deserved an award.

“It was a very small dose that has mostly worn off. There is nothing to worry about as far as interactions with his current prescription, but to be safe, I recommend a good meal before he takes anything else,” the doctor said. Then he looked back into the room at his patient. “Something a little heavier than whatever his usual meal is.”

(^o”)/~~~

“Krasivyy!” Victor called as he continued searching the room. As soon as he realized that the cat wasn’t next to him in the hotel bed, he started looking for him. What if Krasivyy tried to jump somewhere and hurt himself even more? He could imagine the cat laying on the floor, quietly crying in pain from either a new injury or his sprained leg getting worse. What if it actually snapped? Terrified for the cat, Victor searched every inch of the hotel room. He patted down the blankets. He peeked under the bed. He checked behind the dresser. He went to the bathroom and, upon discovering his clothes from the day before were gone, checked his luggage in case he packed it and unknowing trapped Krasivyy in there too. After the first search of the room resulted in no cat, Victor double checked everything.

It was during his third search of the bath that the lock on his door beeped and his coach walked in. “VICTOR! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I can’t find Krasivyy,” Victor replied, before realizing what he just said. Oops. Oh well. He knew he was going to have to tell his coach at some point anyway. It wasn’t like he could sneak an injured cat onto the team bus at the end of this event without anyone noticing. Besides, someone needed to keep an eye on him while Victor was competing, to make sure the cat gets his pain medication. In fact, this probably could work. He could use an extra pair of eyes in his search. “He’s a black cat with his front right paw in a-”

“YOU BROUGHT A CAT?”

“I found a cat!” Victor said with a smile.

Before the coach could say anything more than a muttered curse, his phone buzzed. He looked at it and frowned. He quickly typed a reply, probably far nicer than he spoke (people who didn’t know Yakov always suspected that Victor wrote his texts and emails), before stashing his phone back in his coat pocket. “Leave out some food and water. I expect you downstairs in twenty minutes.”

“But Krasivyy needs his medicine.”

“You brought a sick cat to your…never mind. Twenty minutes. Don’t be late.” Yakov ordered as he left, his mutters about not deserving this cut off by the door closing behind him.

“Don’t be late,” Victor mimicked as soon as he was sure his coach wouldn’t hear. Twenty minutes left him with enough time to get dressed in his Team Russia tracksuit and make sure his short program costume and equipment bag were packed. Not enough time to continue his search for the cat. He decided to call Chris while he changed. Chris had a cat. Maybe the Swiss skater would have a better idea of where Krasivyy would be hiding if he was scared. He saw the news headline that Yuuri Katsuki had been found safe, but dismissed the notification without reading any further. He was found in time to compete in his first Grand Prix Final. Good for him. Victor did look forward to meeting the man and hearing his story, but that could wait.

“Victor!” Chris sounded much happier than he did the day before. “Where are you? We can’t have you go missing right after we just found Yuuri!”

“My room,” Victor replied, putting his phone on speaker. Maybe if he got dressed fast enough, he could do a quick sweep of the room. “Where do you think a cat would hide?”

“A cat? I thought you didn’t like cats?”

“I don’t like litterboxes.” Victor clarified as glanced at the makeshift one, seemingly untouched. “Krasivyy sprained his paw yesterday. What if he made it worse?”

“You would know,” Chris said confidently. Like he knew from experience. He probably did. “If you don’t hear him, he’s probably just sleeping somewhere quiet. Leave him some food and get your fine ass down here!”

* * *

Everyone was in the lobby again, this time practically taking over the space. The coaches were huddled by the front desk. There was a hotel notepad being passed between them as they argued, words being scribbled and crossed off. The skaters stood in their own groups, but kept a nervous eye on their coaches. Coach Cialdini was absent, as was the mysterious Yuuri Katsuki. “Should I be worried?” Victor jokingly asked Chris, the only other person standing alone.

“You? No,” Chris replied, seemingly swirling his coffee cup out of sheer habit. “Our coaches seem to think we need a buddy system.”

Victor felt himself deflate. God no. This was bad. He was going to be stuck with Yuri. Yakov did say that he wanted him mentoring the feisty teenager. He didn’t like it. He had heard people already refer to the teenager as the “Next Victor Nikiforov.” The idea of mentoring him felt too much like confirmation that he would retire soon and that Yuri Plisetsky was taking his place. Like laying down and accepting defeat.

“Lucky for you, the juniors are staying with their coaches,” Chris said with a knowing smile. They may or may not have had plenty of late nights of drinking expensive wines and complaining about rink mates and coaches.

Feeling like he just dodged a bullet, Victor wandered over to the nearby dining area, where the centennial breakfast buffet was set up. He just planned to grab a coffee and maybe a bagel, but then Chris handed him a plate, saying that the steaming tray of scrambled eggs were actually goof for once. One look at the coaches still arguing, though now with the addition of Coach Cialdini, was enough to convince him that he had time to actually sit down and eat with his friend.

(=^ . ^=)

Yuuri sat at a table, poking the scrambled eggs around with his fork. His coach left him with the plate of food, fully expecting at least half of it gone before he returned. Yuuri did eat a piece of toast, but couldn’t get himself to eat another bite. He knew he needed to eat more, if he was going to take the ISU-approved medication (his coach showed him the forms on the taxi ride back to the hotel). He kept thinking about the welcome he got when they walked in. The silence that descended suddenly when the automatic doors opened and they saw him. They quickly settled back into their previous conversations, but the damage was done. They were talking about him. This was his first time in the finals, after all. They probably thought that he had chickened out. They probably hoped he did. One less person to share the spotlight with. Yuuri was sure everyone knew that it was just a fluke that he made it this far.

“Yuuri!” Chris’s shout startled Yuuri, sending a fork-full of scrambled eggs flying. The Swiss man laughed as he pulled out a chair at the table. “Mon aime! At least let me introduce you before you start throwing food at him!”

“”Him”?” Yuuri repeated, looking up. Instant regret. Can he disappear again? If there was ever a moment he wanted to forget, this was it. He wished that he could just go back and delete the memory. Unfortunately, like every other mistake and awkward moment in his life, this was likely to become one of those that haunted him every night for years to come. Because there stood none other than Victor Nikiforov. Russia’s Living Legend. The Most Decorated Man in Figure Skating. Yuuri’s idol, who he’s looked up to for years. His face has covered the walls of his bedrooms. Yuuri had a holographic Victor Nikiforov trading card in his wallet, and that was the first thing he checked when his coach brought it to him (thankfully everything else was there).

Victor Nikiforov looked down at him in shock as the glob of scrambled egg dripped off his perfect cheekbone onto his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will confirm that Yuri ordered himself a whole cake. Trust me, if I were a teenager left alone in a hotel room, I’d order myself a whole cake. Hell, almost-thirty year old me would totally order myself a whole cake, though I probably wouldn’t attempt to eat the whole thing in one sitting.
> 
> Do they make holographic sports cards? I’m only familiar with Pokémon cards. Let's just say they do in this universe so Yuuri can have his holographic Victor Nikiforov card.


End file.
